The Greek's Pregnant Bride

It was strange to think of himself merely enjoying a woman’s company for company’s sake but with Alessandra he did. Until their impromptu date, all his dealings with women had been for two reasons: business, at which he refused to blur the lines between personal and professional; and pleasure, the women he dated with the sole intention of bedding them. He’d enjoyed the time spent with them but it had been a means to an end, the end being in bed naked.

Alessandra was the first woman he’d gone on a date with whom he’d had no intention of bedding. He’d found her wildly attractive but she’d been so off-limits he’d curbed that side of his thought process with her. After a few glasses of champagne had loosened them both up, he’d found himself wildly fascinated by her, the mind beneath the beautiful face, not just the body beneath the dress she’d worn.

For the first time, he looked back on his behaviour before he’d met Alessandra with a sense of shame.

How many women had he bedded in his thirty-two years?

He couldn’t even hazard a guess.

He’d hopped from bed to bed without a second thought.

For the first time, he considered he’d been running, not hopping. Running as fast as he could.

Alessandra was the only woman whose bed he’d run from without immediately hopping into another.

until she’d approached him at Rocco and Olivia’s wedding, there had been no

long as he was discreet, he

act like a kid in a sweetshop, his taste at that moment was for

always been a hard, diligent worker

There were times, especially late at night, when he heard movement from her room, when he would fight to remind himself why he couldn’t allow their relationship to be

eyes, she was

was a

wasn’t good enough

only bring her

things platonic for both their sakes and for

was harder than

stairs, the jewellery she wore around her wrist clanging against the

failed to

displaying her slender curves but hiding the slight burgeoning